Shaun Ellis first worked with captive wolves in his native England. Soon he wondered what it would be like to live with wild wolves. Not just observe them, mind you. Live with them. Biologists that learned of his goal either pooh-poohed or opposed it. But Ellis is not a scientist—he’s a former British commando—and, as he wrote, “I didn’t have a reputation to lose, as they did. I didn’t have a fear of not succeeding; I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
He prepared in a military way. He ran, walked, and lifted weights. He studied maps, read books, and talked to tribal elders who lived in Idaho, where he would go to seek wolves. He pulled together a sparse collection of gear that makes ultralight camping look extravagant. He had “a kind of second skin” that replaced underwear, three pairs of socks, walking boots, jeans, a couple of top layers, a quilted jumpsuit, and a hat. He had a rucksack with a water bottle and purification tablets, knife, map, compass, and signal flare. He took a notebook and pen. He had some wire and string for making snares and some beef jerky in case he had difficulty finding food. That’s it. He took no sleeping bag or any kind of shelter. “I wanted to be as much like a lone wolf as I could, so fire was out of the question and a sleeping bag would just have been a nuisance.”
And then—with winter ahead—he followed the Salmon River deep into Idaho’s Rocky Mountains. “I was stepping into the unknown—against all advice—and I wasn’t sure whether, or for how long, I would be able to cope. The temperatures dropped to dangerous levels at night at that altitude, and if the cold didn’t kill me—or the wolves—there was always the possibility of an angry bear or some other predator.”
For the first four fear-filled nights, he slept fitfully in a tree. One day he snared his first rabbit and ate it raw “…it was strong, gamey meat; but I had to be really hungry, which I was later, to eat the rest of the animal—and starving to eat the stomach contents.”
He lived alone in the wilderness for two and a half months before he found the first trace of a wolf, tracks near a water hole. He found no other signs for the next three weeks until a wolf howled. Three more empty weeks passed and then a big wolf crossed quickly in front of him about 150 meters away. He so wanted to get near that—or any—wolf that he became a nocturnal creature. After scary nights bumping and banging through the forest, he found his night vision, sense of smell, and hearing improved.
Another month passed before a big black wolf emerged from the tree line, stopped, stared, and departed. For the next month he saw the wolf every few days. A couple of weeks later, Ellis decided to howl and see what happened. “Minutes passed, which felt like hours, and then the silence was broken by a long mellifluous howl that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I had a reply…it was a miracle.”
Ellis patiently worked his way into living with the black wolf’s pack. Acceptance was painful. The pack was playing nearby when a big male broke away and ran toward Ellis. Three times the wolf nipped the flesh beneath Ellis’s knees with his incisors and drew blood. This was exactly what the beta male at the wildlife park in England had done before accepting Ellis into their pack. On all fours, Ellis followed the black wolf to the rest of the Idaho pack.
As he grew to know these wild animals that he refers to as his family, he compared them with captive wolves. “The language they used was similar but these wolves were stronger, and they were constantly on guard…one of them was always on the lookout…Their play-fights and games were far more intense than those of captive wolves.” He played with the wolves, and they were as rough with him as they were with their pack mates. He ate raw meat with them; a young female brought him the leg of a red deer. “I was hungry and after months of nothing bigger than rabbit, it tasted fantastic.”
He lived with the wolves throughout the winter, though he does not describe the snowstorms and bitter cold he must have experienced in the mountains. That lack of description so troubled me that I wondered if Ellis was for real. I stopped reading and searched the web for info on him. There’s plenty, including videos from the BBC and National Geographic. Convinced, I returned to the book.
One day Ellis was kneeling at a stream splashing water onto his face when he happened to catch sight of his reflection. “I hadn’t seen myself in months and I didn’t recognize the face that looked back at me. It was thin and gaunt with sunken, darkened eyes; long matted hair; and a bushy beard…it shocked me to the core.” He had lost forty-nine pounds and his health was beginning to deteriorate. It was time to leave.
Thus the first half of the book ends. The second half recounts his efforts to reintegrate into human society and to improve the lives of wolves in captivity—some of which he also lived with. He describes training dogs, using interesting techniques learned while living with wolves. He talks about using recorded howls to modify the behavior of wild wolves in Europe. (A technique now used to move wolves away from livestock in the U.S.)
Ellis and his cowriter Penny Junor provide vivid descriptions of his two years living with those wild Idaho wolves that fed him and kept him warm and safe. There’s much to learn from his first hand observations about the wolves’ relationships to one another and function within the pack, about howling, hunting, and breeding. About the obsession of one man to endure danger and hardship to live with wild wolves.